


A Chain of Red Blooms

by AZGirl



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Friendship, Gen, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZGirl/pseuds/AZGirl
Summary: The chain of red blooms grew and diminished in size and wavered now and then, but never quite stopped.A two chapter fill for two different Whumptober 2020 prompts. Chapter 1 – Day 10: Trail of Blood. Chapter 2 - Day 30: Wound Reveal.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952908
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	1. A Trail of Red Blooms

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my limited series of Whumptober 2020 fics. This chapter is a fill for Day 10: Trail of Blood, and is a day late (sorry!) due to spending time with my family.

**ooooooo**

“The first scarlet flower of blood sprang up under their feet within three hundred paces. A chain of ruby beads wavered on for as far again, and there was a second starry bloom, and beyond, the chain continuing, thin and clear.” ~~~~~ _The Virgin in the Ice_ , Ellis Peters.

**ooooooo**

**Chapter One: A Trail of Red Blooms**

Wrapped up within his cloak, trying to keep somewhat warm, Athos straightened up from the tree he’d been leaning against when he caught sight of a horse that was approaching his location. Seconds later, he recognized both the horse and its rider, allowing him to relax slightly from the ready stance he’d adopted if by chance the rider might be a foe instead of a friend.

When the rider was close enough, he called out, “Anything?”

Aramis shook his head as he replied, “Nothing. I fear last night’s snow has obliterated all signs of where the raiders might be headed next or where their camp might be.”

Athos nodded at the veracity of that statement. The four of them had spent the previous night huddled together for warmth while watching the snow fall.

“Perhaps one of the others has had better luck.”

“Perhaps,” Aramis agreed.

The four Musketeers had split up early that morning at the very crossroads where he and Aramis had just reunited. Their plan was to cover as much ground as possible while scouting for anything they could find related to their mission, which was to locate and stop the raiding party terrorizing and killing their way through the countryside. They were to reunite just after midday to report their findings, if any, and then decide on their next steps.

A short time later, Aramis said, “Porthos,” nodding his head in the opposite direction than where he had recently come from. A moment or two later, his brother added in a voice laced with apprehension, “And that’s d’Artagnan’s horse he’s leading.”

Startled by those words, Athos quickly moved to see for himself what Aramis had just declared. With Aramis’s eyesight so keen, it was another minute before he could distinguish for himself that Porthos did indeed have d’Artagnan’s horse with him.

But how could that be? And if d’Artagnan’s horse was with Porthos, then where on God’s green, or more aptly, _snow-covered_ earth was the younger man?

His mind quickly strayed towards the worst of scenarios, and he had to force himself to not jump to conclusions just yet, especially since there was no body draped over the back of the horse to evidence his worst nightmare.

“Where’s d’Artagnan?” both he and Aramis asked in near concert as Porthos approached and dismounted.

“Don’t know,” Porthos replied, sounding worried. “Thought I had a lead, which started steering me towards the direction d’Artagnan had gone.”—Porthos ran a hand over his beard—“Turned out to be a shepherd and a flock of sheep, but I went a little farther just in case and saw d’Artagnan’s horse alone, grazing in the next field.”

They all turned to look towards their younger brother’s horse as Porthos pat its neck to help keep it calm. “I spent some time searching for signs of him, but finding none, I thought it best to rendezvous with you instead of finding, without backup, the same trouble our brother must’ve found.”

“Do you think he came across the raiders?” Aramis asked.

“Knowing our brother’s luck, it seems the most likely scenario,” replied Athos.

Aramis began closely inspecting d’Artagnan’s horse.

“I already checked,” Porthos said. “No signs of blood or that the horse had to run hard if d’Artagnan had been run to ground.”

Aramis continued to examine the horse. “I’m looking for signs of where our friend might have been when he encountered trouble. We know what direction he went, which helps, but we need a way to narrow down the vastness which is the westerly direction he’d headed towards.”

Porthos nodded despite Aramis not being able to see him.

From the far side of the horse, he and Porthos heard Aramis exclaim, “A-ha!”

“Find something?” Athos asked, heading towards Aramis, who came around to them.

Aramis was holding something in his hand, which he opened to reveal several pine needles.

“That’s not much help,” Porthos said, knowing pine trees grew fairly abundantly around the country.

“Neither is that,” Athos added, pointing towards the snow that had just begun to fall.

Aramis grinned, “Au contraire, mon frère,* but it does help.” His friend waved a couple of pine needles in front of their faces. “These are from a Scots pine, and there is only one place I know west of here where they grow.”

Anxious to find out what had happened to d’Artagnan, Athos said, “Then let’s not tarry here any longer.”

The three of them quickly mounted their horses and headed at a fast pace towards the west, Aramis in the lead and Porthos continuing to guide d’Artagnan’s horse. The snow continued to fall, which made Athos more than thankful they had a clue regarding d’Artagnan’s whereabouts.

An indeterminable time later, they arrived at a stand of pine trees, Scots pines, if Aramis was correct. They were greatly relieved to see there were no signs of a body to be found, but still frustrated the newly fallen snow had unfortunately covered up much of the evidence they’d hoped to possibly find. Near the base of one tree, which had little snow under it, there were clear signs of a struggle. And most disturbingly, two signs someone, probably d’Artagnan, had been confronted with trouble: a smear of blood on the tree’s trunk and drag marks on the ground, which headed in a southwesterly direction. The direction opposite of where d’Artagnan’s horse had been found by Porthos.

Without speaking, they remounted, knowing they were likely at least several hours behind whoever had taken d’Artagnan captive, possibly too many hours in order to catch up to the raiders and find their friend.

They spread out a bit as they continued riding, hoping for a sign despite the newly unblemished landscape created by the snowfall.

It took him several moments to register what he was seeing, but once he realized, he called his brothers over.

“Here!” Athos said, pointing towards the ground.

“Blood,” Porthos said, needlessly stating the obvious.

Grim-faced, the three Musketeers began following the trail of blood. The chain of red blooms grew and diminished in size and wavered now and then, but never quite stopped, allowing them to continue following along without much trouble. All the while, Athos’s worry for their youngest brother continued to grow.

How badly wounded was d’Artagnan, and with that amount of blood loss, how much longer could he survive?

Soon he realized they were heading towards a rocky hillside. They continued to follow the red trail along what seemed an old shepherding track through the hillside.

They assumed the drops of crimson they were trailing would continue leading them along the path, but it did not. Instead, the line of red blooms turned into what appeared to be a narrow cleft that would’ve remained hidden had it not been for the macabre trail they were following.

The Musketeers had to dismount and lead their horses through, and still the path was barely wide enough for their horses to pass.

Not far into the valley within, they heard voices, which were being carried along the wind towards them. They left the horses tied up behind several large boulders and continued on foot towards the direction of the voices, taking care to be as quiet as possible in order to not give away their presence.

When the path split, the blood trail continued one way and the other way seemed to lead towards some kind of outcropping. Reasoning that, with the voices now so near, it would be wiser to take the path not delineated by blood, Athos pointed towards the other one, hoping it would keep them from being inadvertently discovered.

At the top, they carefully approached the outcropping’s edge and looked over.

It was immediately evident they had found the raiders’ base of operations. More importantly – to them at least – they had found d’Artagnan. Their friend was tied to a tree at the far side of the camp, and his head was bowed, seemingly unconscious.

ooooooo

NOTE: “Au contraire, mon frère” translates from the French to “on the contrary, my brother.”

ooooooo

**_To be concluded on Day 30._ **

**ooooooo**


	2. All is Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fill for Day 30: Wound Reveal.

**ooooooo**

**Chapter Two: All is Revealed**

Athos scanned d’Artagnan’s body from afar, but could not see where the younger Musketeer was wounded. He glanced over at Aramis, who appeared to have just done the same thing. Porthos looked at the two of them just as he sent a questioning glance Aramis’s way, asking with the look if the man had observed a wound that could have bled badly enough to leave such a gruesome trail to follow. Aramis shrugged slightly and shook his head, indicating he also hadn’t spotted an obvious wound, especially one that had bled so much.

They watched the camp for a while, learning its layout as well as other details, such as how many men were encamped there. If their eyes kept straying back towards d’Artagnan’s unmoving form on occasion, Athos doubted anyone would blame them for their inability to stay completely on task.

Eventually, after gleaning all they could, they’d retreated back from the edge of the outcropping and back towards where they’d left their horses in order to plan their next moves.

After making their plans, they returned to the outcropping of rock, uncaring of the cold or risk of discovery in order to keep watch over d’Artagnan. If their brother’s life was ever in imminent danger, then they’d attack before the time they’d previously decided upon.

After the raiders had supped, the man who looked to be their leader approached d’Artagnan and kicked him hard in the left leg, eliciting a grunt of pain from the young Musketeer. The heavily bearded man then grabbed d’Artagnan’s hair and yanked the Gascon’s head back. When d’Artagnan blearily opened his eyes, Aramis crossed himself. For once, Athos would agree with the sentiment, thankful to finally see a definite sign of life from their friend.

Though the voices from the camp below carried somewhat, the Musketeers still could not hear every word said, but the leader’s body language spoke volumes and most of it was bad. It took everything within him, to not give in and attack while the leader was interrogating d’Artagnan, watching while the Gascon was being tortured for information. Looking over at Porthos and Aramis, he could see the two were struggling with the inaction just as much as him. But to attack now would be foolhardy in the least and fatal at the worst.

He locked eyes with Aramis and then tipped his head towards d’Artagnan. It would be at the medic’s discretion if and when they needed to intervene before their planned hour of attack. The torture session thankfully ended not long after with a renewal of the Gascon’s unconscious state.

They continued to observe the camp, each of them taking turns to get a short nap in before the appointed time of attack. Eventually, that time came and they quietly stole into the sleeping camp, heading towards d’Artagnan and taking out each raider they came across with extreme prejudice.

And then their luck promptly ran out.

One of the raiders came from seemingly nowhere, saw them, and raised the alarm before Porthos’s main gauche could silence the man. However, God had apparently been on their side this night as they had already drastically reduced the raiding party’s forces.

They managed to fight and permanently disable or kill the remaining raiders except for one man: their leader.

Athos had been in a two-on-one fight with the leader and another raider before the cowardly man had retreated, leaving him to fight the man’s lackey. By the time he’d dispatched the brigand, the leader had managed to untie d’Artagnan and was using the Gascon as both a shield and a bargaining tool.

The bearded leader of the raiders, now the only one left of his murdering band of thieves, demanded he be allowed to leave or he would kill d’Artagnan, who was barely able to stand at the moment. Of course, what the raider failed to comprehend was that he was dead either way.

Hurting d’Artagnan would lead to a quick death. Surrendering would also lead to death, but there would also be a short reprieve of sorts before the hangman’s noose claimed his life. Athos obviously preferred – and hoped for – surrender, but he would make sure the leader went to Hell one way or another.

Of course, with Aramis around, there was a third option.

While Porthos kept the thief’s attention from him, Athos glanced towards his friend, who nodded back at him.

Athos demanded the leader’s surrender one final time, but the last raider only repeated his threats against d’Artagnan’s life. Athos then lifted his hand slightly, and barely a moment later there was the sound of a gunshot reverberating within the valley, which violently snapped the raider’s head backward before the man began to fall to the ground, taking d’Artagnan with him.

The three Musketeers rushed forward, anxious to get to their brother and determine what kind of damage he’d sustained during his ordeal. Though Athos wanted to stay with d’Artagnan, he’d only tarried long enough for Aramis to declare the younger man would live.

While Aramis determined the extent of d’Artagnan’s injuries, he and Porthos went through the camp to confirm they’d dispatched all of the brigands, dragging the bodies to the far side of the camp in the process. When they’d finished with their grisly work, they retreated to the tent of the raiding party’s leader, eager to see the Gascon.

D’Artagnan was asleep under a pile of blankets and furs, but Aramis assured them the younger Musketeer’s injuries were relatively minor except for some cracked ribs and a head wound, with likely accompanying concussion, that looked to be about a day old. Aramis mentioned he’d found a fair amount of dried blood along their friend’s head and neck.

“Aramis, I know head wounds bleed a lot, but that much?” Athos asked, thinking of the consistent blood trail they’d followed.

“It would be a first in my experience,” Aramis said, understanding what Athos was getting at and looking perplexed.

“Guess we’ll have to wait until he wakes up for his part of the story,” Porthos added.

Several hours later, the three men were relieved to see d’Artagnan return to wakefulness. Aramis checked him over, asking some questions, the answers only serving to confirm his earlier diagnoses.

While drinking a cup of warmed broth, d’Artagnan relayed what happened to him.

“I came upon them by accident, and there were too many of them for me to fight off before I was captured. The leader rammed my head against a tree, and I knew no more for I don’t know how long.” D’Artagnan reached for his head wound, but Aramis batted his hand away.

“I came to tightly tied across the back of their pack animal, which was at the end of their train. I tried loosening the ropes or finding something with which to cut my bonds, but to no avail. I did manage to reach an overfull wineskin and partially uncork it in hopes the wine spilling out would leave a trail, all the while hoping the snow—”

“Wait a minute,” Porthos interrupted before he could. “Are you saying the trail we followed was only wine?!”

“You found it,” d’Artagnan said, sounding both excited and pleased. “Excellent! I was afraid the new snowfall would hide the trail I was…” The Gascon trailed off, looking confused by their reactions to the only option he’d had at the time. “What?”

Athos took pity on the younger man and explained, “D’Artagnan, you have to understand; we believed the trail we were following was blood.”

“That you were bleeding out and dying,” continued Aramis.

“Now, don’t get us wrong or anything, but you scared us near to death with that trick,” Porthos finished.

“My deepest apologies, gentlemen,” d’Artagnan said, sounding contrite. “I didn’t mean—”

“Of course you didn’t,” Athos said. “Just don’t do that to us again.”

“I shouldn’t leave a way for you to find me?” d’Artagnan said, sounding more than a little confused.

“How about you don’t get caught in the first place? Maybe pay better attention to your surroundings?” Athos said, with both Aramis and Porthos wholeheartedly agreeing with the sentiment.

“I’ll do my best, but you know I cannot guarantee anything.” D’Artagnan smiled. “Thank you for being there for me today.”

“You’re welcome, brother.”

ooooooo

**_The end._ **

**ooooooo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Election Day in the U.S. is nearly here. Don’t forget to vote because every vote counts.

**Author's Note:**

> As Election Day in the U.S. draws ever nearer, I urge you to research the issues most important to you and select the candidate that best represents your views, regardless of their political affiliation. I also encourage to you educate yourself about the propositions, etc. also on your ballot before voting on them. Don’t forget to sign your ballots if you are voting by mail. Every vote counts. 
> 
> Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing. Any remaining mistakes are my fault. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> *Please do not repost or use this or any of my other works on another site or app without my knowledge or consent. FanFiction and Archive of Our Own are the only two sites (as AZGirl on both) where my fiction should be posted. Thank you!


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